Friday, December 30, 2005

"I was thinking there might be some kinda clue on this tape recorder, but I can't figure out if I've got it on or not."

"Lemme see."

Lieutenant Charles Copeland of the Boston Police Homicide Squad took the small handheld tape recorder from Sergeant Fred Wilson. He immediately shut it off.

"Yeah, it was on, Fred, but I think you pressed the 'record' button. How long've you been playing with this thing?"

"Shit, I dunno. When I first saw it, I tried to get it to play, but I thought it was just dead. Then I had to take a leak, so I put it down and went to the can, and then I was upstairs questioning that neighbor. Might've been twenty minutes or so."

"I don't know, Fred. You might've erased the whole tape - if there was anything on it to begin with."

The small apartment was littered with hundreds of crude drawings. All of them showed some sort of comicbook character with a big 'W' on his chest. Empty cat food cans were scattered about on the floor. The strangest thing was the bread. There were little pieces of bread all over the place, in weird shapes that looked somewhat like animals.

"Yeah, Charlie, I mean, look at this bread. It's everywhere. And all the drawings, and the cat food. Definitely something strange about this guy."

"What did you find out from the landlord?"

"Well, the landlord's name is John Means. He was a captain in the marine corps, but he retired on a disability. He said that he got worried about the deceased when he heard the guy's cat meowing outside the back door. After like half a day, the guy still hadn't let him in, so he decided to check if everything was OK. He went down and knocked on his door, but no answer. That's when he went in, using a duplicate key, and found him stiff on the floor, dead."

"No note or anything like that? He didn't find anything with the body?"

"Nope."

"How about the neighbor? Did he see or hear anything unusual?"

"Naw, not a thing."

"Did he have much interaction with the deceased? Sometimes one guy lives on the top floor of a triple-decker, he hardly ever even sees whoever lives downstairs."

"Yeah, that was pretty much the case here. Neighbor's an old black guy, retired. Says he pretty much stays inside all day, watching TV. Only time he ever saw the deceased was when they ran into each other at the mailbox. One interesting thing about him, but it's just unusual; nothing that means anything."

"What's that?"

"The guy is constantly chewing on licorice."

"Licorice?"

"Yeah, you know, those little hard candies?"

"Oh. Did this Captain Means or the licorice guy have any other info about the deceased? Possible drug use, unusual visitors? Anything like that?"

"Naw, not much. A couple of small things. Means said that the guy used to work at the 7-11 down the street, but he was fired last week for stealing."

"Stealing? Did he say what?"

"Yeah. He said that the 7-11 manager told him the security tapes showed this guy stashing loaves of Wonder bread outside the back door for like three days running. What else could he do but fire him?"

"I suppose so. Anything else?"

"Yeah, the licorice guy said that he saw the deceased having an argument with a woman on the street out in front of this building; the guy's girlfriend, he guessed. This was a couple days before he started boosting Wonder bread. She was holding a coffee and she threw it in the guy's face and walked away. Licorice Guy assumed they were breaking up."

"Sounds like a decent assumption."

"Anyway, Licorice Guy goes downstairs to see if the guy is OK, and he was - except for a couple of minor burns on his face - but he started acting all weird and shouting at the Licorice Guy to stay away from him; some off-the-wall crap about nuclear waste. He said the guy sort of stumbled off down the street and that was the last he saw of him until today."

"Oh my God! You STOLE Wonder bread? What kind of a doofus superhero steals Wonder bread? You really are a clown."

"Hey, I feel bad enough! Shut up!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! That's all you know how to say, isn't it? Clever. You are such a nincompoop."

"Please leave me alone! I need to get this recorded!"

"Why? So the rest of the world can have a record of your stupidity? What a total dweeb you are."

"Please give me a break, Mister Paws. I'm not feeling too good about myself right now."

"No doubt. What a loser. Your girlfriend breaks up with you, you lose your job because you get caught stealing Wonder bread, you're broke, living in this dump, you're ugly as sin, have no social graces whatsoever, and I still hate you, of course. If I were you, I'd kill myself."

"What?"

"I said, 'If I were you, I'd kill myself'."

"Maybe I will."

"No, you aren't smart enough to choose something that beneficial to the world."

"Give me a moment to think."

"Think?!? You're incapable of thought. Why don't you just swallow those pills and be done with it. You'll be doing the world a favor."

"Benadryl?"

"Sure. You don't have anything else around. 30 or 40 of those ought to do the job just as well as anything else."

"What about all the little bread animals? What will they do if I kill myself?"

"Who knows? They're just mindless crippled freaks you created, Frankenstein. Throw some water on them and that'll take care of that problem."

"No. I'll set them free."

"Suit yourself, pal. Hey, before you go, let me out. I've got to take a whizz."

2 comments:

Wow. Anyone who didn't see the criteria for the writing assignment will get the impression that you're certifiable. That's OK, since it's the right impression anyway, but it usually takes people longer to figure that out.Nice job on the assignment though. You get a gold star and an "Awesome!" on this one.

I am, among other things...

My actual name is Jim Sullivan, but I'll answer to Jim, Jimmy, Sully, Suldog, Laroooooo, or Your Prescription Is Ready. Despite all evidence to the contrary found within these pages, I am a professional writer.